


Like Father, Like Son

by Kibasdaydreams



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood, Coma, FFXV week 2, FFXV week 2 day 1, Father & Son prompt, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Mentions of Noctis' mother, Minor Character Death, mild depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7660993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kibasdaydreams/pseuds/Kibasdaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I love you, you know that?” he whispered above the crib. “I love you so much more than you could ever know, and I will protect you until my dying breath, my son. My little, Noctis.”</p>
<p>A look into the relationship between the king and his little prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Father, Like Son

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I have ever posted online. This was originally for FFXV week 2 on Tumblr, but I thought I'd post it here too (with some slight grammatical editing). I'm open to any constructive criticism, but please don't be nasty, okay? Feel free to check out my Tumblr too: http://kibasdaydreams.tumblr.com
> 
> Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

The batteries were dead, King Regis reasoned. They had to be. He checked (with notably practiced ease): almost full power. All right, so not on his end, but what of the other side? That had to be the reason for the past few hours of radio silence. He just had to make sure things were okay. Again. For the thirty-eighth time that evening. 

Carefully, as quiet as a mouse, he heaved the heavy quilts off of himself, swung his legs out of the bed, and then, ever so slowly, he planted his feet onto the plush carpet and eased his weight onto his legs as he rose to his full height. He quickly adjusted the duvets so as to not disturb the other occupant, and paused to make sure that she had not awoken though it was doubtful (the poor woman was utterly exhausted). Regis slipped on his fine robe and slippers, scarcely making more than a slight rustling, and crept to the door. With a final glance back at his wife, he slowly turned the knob and left their shared chambers, shutting the door behind him with just as little noise. 

Like a thief in the night, he stole away down the hallway and entered the next room on his left. He took a brief glance around – no kidnappers in here. In fact, there was nothing out of the ordinary to be found here at all. If anything perhaps it was Regis’ own frantic state of mind that was a threat to the fragile serenity of the bedroom. But what of the occupant? Regis quietly made his way over to the centrepiece of the bedroom – a beautiful sky blue crib with golden legs which gleamed in the soft moonlight that flooded in through the large windows, and peered in to check the state of the little one: a beautiful baby boy slept soundly, his breathing deep and steady as he lay nestled in the silky white sheets (but not too nestled lest he suffocate, Regis had made sure). 

Although the newborn had been in this world for only a few hours and was proclaimed by the gynaecologist to be of perfect weight, he could barely believe just how tiny he was. Regis was not ignorant to the fact that there were those who would seek harm to befall the young child, but he simply couldn’t fathom how anyone could possibly wish any harm upon one who looked the very definition of innocent. A ferocious rage roared inside him at the thought of anyone laying so much as a finger on his son against his will – Regis would never allow it. He vowed that he would never allow any harm to come to his child (even though Regis was powerless to stop him from meeting the same damned fate as his forefathers…). 

He finally checked the baby monitor’s batteries, which were (of course) in the same condition as the twin’s in his room. He had just opened the pack, after all. Regis sighed, knowing that he was likely to carry on like this for the rest of the night (or morning, rather), and resigned himself to keeping watch over his son instead of returning to his bedroom to attempt sleep again. He carried a chair over from the corner, and sat down next to the crib. “I love you, you know that?” he whispered above the crib. “I love you so much more than you could ever know, and I will protect you until my dying breath, my son. My little, Noctis.”

***

“The new ball I wanted! Thank you so much, Dad!” Noctis exclaimed excitedly as he bolted from his chair launch himself onto his father’s lap for a hug, abandoning the present on the dining table.

“Your tutor told me just how hard you’ve been working in your studies. I’m very proud of you, Noct,” his father said as he returned the embrace firmly. Though that wasn’t entirely the truth; he had mostly bought him the gift because he had heard how lonely his son was since his mother had departed for her official tour of Altissia.

“Are you gonna play with me today? Since I’ve been working so hard and all.”

Regis gave a tight smile at that. “I don’t think so, Noct. I’m very busy today.”

“But you’re busy every day, Dad!” his son whimpered. “We never play together!”

“Noct, we can always play another day, but today I have a lot of work to do.”

“No!” he shouted as he shook his head fiercely, his blue eyes shimmering with tears. “You’ve said that loads of times before! It’s not fair! All the dads in my books and TV shows and movies play with their kids! So why can’t you?!” Noctis was getting increasingly hysterical as the tears finally came, rolling down his rosy cheeks in rivers, and Regis had to fight to keep himself from crying too.

“Well, not every little boy has a king for a father,” he tried to reason.

“Then I don’t want a king for a father! A king is a bad father!” he screamed. Regis was struck dumb, and did nothing to stop the little prince from jumping off his lap and rushing out of the room whilst crying profusely. Never had he thought himself as a bad father. He knew that he didn’t spend as much time with his son as he ought to (barely managing to eat meals with him), but he couldn’t help that he had a country to run. Regis was always torn between his duty to his country and his duty to his family, and often felt as though he would tear into two. He was under the impression that Noctis understood this; he was usually such a well-behaved boy that every time Regis had rejected him he’d simply smiled and went about his day. This outburst was, therefore, entirely out of the ordinary. Then again, his son had always been rather good at bottling up his feelings.

Regis made his way to Noctis’ bedroom, and softly knocked at the door – no response. Regis mentally prepared himself before he entered. His heart tore in two at the scene before him: Noctis was lying face down on his bed, oblivious to his father’s intrusion as he cried loudly into his forearms. His son whom he’d sworn to protect was in pain, because he’d failed as a father to make time for him. Regis sat on the bed next to him and began to rub circles on his back to calm him down, “Noct, please don’t cry. Please… I-I can’t bear to see you like this.” 

But Noctis said nothing. If anything he began to cry even harder and wailed loudly – now he felt awful for making his father upset too. 

“Noct, if you stop crying,” he just knew he was going to regret these words, “I’ll play ball with you in the evening, okay?” Total lie. There was virtually no way he’d be able to make it in time, and he was already running late as it was, but damn it he had been desperate to stop the relentless crying. 

Noctis slowly pushed himself up onto his knees, his crying reduced to sniffles and occasional hiccups as he wiped the tears from his eyes, “Really, Dad?”

Regis hesitated for a moment, but it was too late, he’d already dug himself a grave. He’d just have to work extra hard today. With no breaks. Not even lunch. “Only if you finish all of your vegetables at lunch like a good little boy.”

“Of course! I’ll eat every last one, I promise!” Noctis beamed up at him with newfound hope shining in his eyes.

Dammit, he’d been counting on his son’s hatred of vegetables to win out. Maybe he could get the chef to make him a big leafy salad…

 

In the end, he didn’t make it. 

Although he’d tried so hard to finish all his meetings and reports as fast as possibly he’d ended up stepping out of his last meeting late into the evening. According to one of the maids, Noctis had spent all afternoon and evening waiting for his father in the gardens, clutching his new ball like a lifeline the whole time; he’d even eaten all of his vegetables as promised. Heart heavy with guilt he trudged up to his son’s room, weary from hunger and hard work. “Noct,” he called out as he stepped inside, “are you awake?” There was no answer save for a lump on the bed turning over to face the window. 

“I’m so sorry, Noct. I… I really did try my best.”

Silence.

“Noct, please don’t do this.”

Still silence.

Regis sighed deeply as he reached out to card his fingers through his son’s inky tresses. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard, but you’ll understand when–“ 

“Go away,” Noctis muttered bitterly as he withdrew from his father’s touch, and hid himself from view under the quilt. Regis swallowed a lump as he let his hand drop to his side and his face contorted in a hurt expression. He felt terrible; the guilt ate away at him incessantly as his son’s cold rejection stung him like a bucket of cold ice. But what could he expect? What kind of father was he if he failed to even spend time with his son? 

“Goodnight, then,” he said as he left.

He cried himself to sleep that night, unaware that there was a little boy not far away doing the exact same thing.

***

The fires blazed in the distance; the bright orange clashing with the black night sky above that was quickly filling with thick smoke. “Majesty, please be careful!” one of the Kingsglaive begged their king. “Let us handle this!” But, Regis paid them no attention as he threw caution to the wind and raced through the dark of the rolling countryside. 

How could he rest when his wife and child were in such terrible danger?! They were completely alone and at the mercy of a horrifying daemon! It was frightening just how possible it was for them to be already dead… Regis drove faster than he ever had in his entire life, even though his rationale pleaded with him to slow down to prevent further tragedy. Just a little farther – he could already make out the monster that had dared to attack his family: a huge, petrifying creature that possessed the upper half of a woman and was serpent from the waist down with multiple arms each wielding a deadly sword. 

He could also make out two figures lying on the ground in a sickening pool of blood. 

And the daemon was preparing to deal the final blow. 

Seizing the opportunity as the creature was focusing on its prey Regis dashed out of the Regalia and quickly unleashed his phantom swords to impale its side, causing it to roar in pain as it recoiled and whipped its head toward its attacker. The Kingsglaive promptly surrounded the beast, and with their king’s aid, they managed to land several critical hits on it before it fled into the night. But, Regis could not rejoice in their victory. “Where’s my son?!” he asked.

“Majesty, over there!” the guard pointed out the two figures from before. 

Up close it was an even more horrifying scene. His dear wife and his son – his beautiful, innocent little boy – were killed by that abomination. “Noct!” he shouted as he rushed over. His worst nightmare had come true. He had failed to do keep his oath to protect his son until his dying breath. He fell to his knees as the smell of iron overwhelmed his olfactory sense, and his heart ached in excruciating pain as hot tears pricked his eyes and a wave of nausea crashed over him. He checked his queen’s pulse: nothing. She was in a much worse state than her son (most likely she had shielded him until her last moment, Regis thought bitterly. She could not even use the crystal, and yet she had been able to fulfil his promise better than he had) who was covered in lacerations of various depths, bruises and blood, as well as having his right arm twisted at an unnatural angle. The poor thing had probably died in immense pain.

With trembling hands, he gathered Noctis up into his arms and cradled him close to his chest as he buried his face into the child’s blood-matted hair and wept. He would never be able to forgive himself for his failure as long as he lived. The grief of losing his most precious thing was too unbearable, and he silently wished that he would be struck down then and there to end his suffering. “Forgive me, Noct,” he choked out as he held him even closer and tightened his grip even further as though that could somehow breathe life into his son. 

But, wait.

What was that faint drumming his hand felt against his son’s neck? Hardly believing what he was witnessing, Regis pressed his fingers to Noctis’ neck; yes, there was still some life left in his boy! He let out a sob in relief as he called for the medics. Noctis could still live another day.

***

His son was in a coma. The days eventually turned into weeks, but Noctis slept on and on, and despite having Lucis’ most advanced technology and her crystal available, nobody could do anything to stir him. The king spent as much time as he could with his son, often sitting next to his bed and stroking his hair wordlessly. It was ironic that now that he was spending more time with his son than ever before, and yet his son was in too deep of a sleep to enjoy his company. 

Although it had been a long time since Noctis had thrown a tantrum about his father’s lack of presence, Regis had been very much aware of the hopeful looks his son gave him whenever he asked his father about his plans. And now with his mother gone, and Regis’ responsibilities doubled, he would be more lonely than ever before when he woke up. 

If he woke up.

He brushed his son’s bangs out of his face, letting his fingers linger longer than necessary. His poor child was currently fighting off his own nightmares which threatened to keep him in the clutches of unconsciousness forever, and only God knew how he was faring. Regis had never felt so useless in all his life; there was little he could do to help Noctis. Unfortunately, his son would have to survive his dreamland on his own in order to wake up. Well, not entirely on his own, as the statue of Carbuncle had ensured that he would have at least some guidance on his journey.

Anguish consumed his being whole. He truly was a terrible father; he had been wholly unable to help his son in his moment of critical strife and was powerless to save him from his darkest dreams. All he could do was take care of his physical wellbeing, hoping that its spiritual counterpart would be able to return to it intact.

***

Blue eyes fluttered open. Their eyelids blinked: once, twice, thrice, before they permanently opened, accustomed to the bright light above. Large, strong hands instantly dwarfed his own tiny one, weakened from lack of muscle tone. Their grip was reassuring, comforting. Even in his state of lethargy, he knew whose hands they were. “Daddy.”

The blue eyes searched for the familiar face, and landed on an older man with shaggy brown hair and a well-trimmed beard and moustache that he knew so well (for they tickled him whenever he was pulled in for a kiss) who wore a shaky smile and relieved expression. This was his father, he knew. And yet, why was his father crying? In all his years he could not remember seeing him cry once, but there he stood with tears silently flowing down his cheeks as he swirled circles onto his son’s hand with his thumb. “Welcome back, Noct,” his father breathed.

With a small smile he replied: “I’m home.”

Then he knew no more.

***

Noctis had been through too much, Regis thought, as he held the sleeping child in his arm outside the Regalia, the weather reflected his sorrowful mood. The boy had suffered far more than many others his age. He had grown up alone in the palace, he had been almost killed by a daemon that took his mother’s life, he had spent weeks on end in an endless slumber fighting to return home, and he was doomed to the same fate that cursed all the kings in the family line. And now his poor, sweet, beautiful child – his most precious thing in all the world – was now bound to an even worse destiny, one that Regis could never have foreseen. Not for the first time in his life of fatherhood, and certainly not for the last time, he cursed himself for his inability; there was nothing he could do except mourn his son’s future.

Tears trailed down his face as he buried his head into the crook of Noctis’ shoulder, and inhaled his scent, trying to preserve his son’s into his memory as though he would be gone before he could ever do so again. As though he would be gone before he could ever say goodbye ever again.

“I will be with you, always” he mouthed, unable to sound the words out. Such empty words they were, just as empty as his promise all those years ago. He was powerless to help him; Noctis would have to fulfil his fate on his own, and Regis could but prepare him so that when the time came he was ready.

“What a terrible burden you carry…”

***

Two men stood alone in silence on the balcony late in the warm summer night with nothing but the light of the moon to illuminate their features. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” one of them began, turning to face his counterpart. “All you have to do is ask, and I’ll find a way.”

The other man smiled and nodded. “I have a duty to my people,” he replied. “We won’t get a better deal than this.”

“Selflessness – the mark of a good king.”

“I learned from the best.”

“I’m proud of you, Noct,” his father said putting his aged hand on his son’s shoulder, the wrinkles serving as a reminder of his son’s fate. “So proud.. and sad.”

A pained expression flashed briefly in Noctis’ otherwise aloof countenance before his gaze became serious and determined. “I’ll be all right,” he declared. “I won’t shun my duties. I won’t run away.”

Regis felt a pang of pain in his heart at that. His son was no longer a little boy; he had grown up to be a fine young man and the best heir his father could hope for. He swept Noctis up in a tight embrace. “As long as you carry my blood, hold your head up high,” he told him. “Keep your friends close – you’ll need them. And take care of yourself.”

Noctis returned his embrace rather hesitantly. “We’re just going to Altissia for my wedding,” he said, his tone laced with confusion. “It’s not like this is goodbye forever.”

If only he knew, Regis thought sadly.


End file.
